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DROICHS VERSUS GIANTS.

Ar a full meeting of the four and a half feet Club of Glasgow, lately held in the Fudge Hotel, it was moved and carried by acclamation, that a message should be sent to the Six Feet Club o Edinburgh, to invite them to a trial of skill, strength, and dex-f terity, in the various branches of gymnastics, particularly leaping, wrestling, single stick and throwing the hammer. The challenge, we understand, embraces all feats of prowess, with the single exception of throwing the hatchet, in which our cautious little townsmen consider the Six Feet Club unrivalled. Great interest, we understand, is excited, and bets, to a large amount, have been taken. Our little Trojans are said to be quite confident of taking the gloss off the Athenians; a strong band of the Eight Feet Club of the West have, very handsomely, offered to keep the ground on the occasion.

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

PROFESSOR NEUMANN has brought back from his voyage to Canton a very neat collection of Canton Chinese Literature. It is really' wonderful how during five months' stay in Canton, and without any extensive resources, he found means to collect above 10,000 volumes. They are placed in the New Public Library at Berlin, of which, it is to be hoped, they will become the property.

An edition of the Hebrew Bible is announced by the learned lexicographer, Gesenius, with various readings and notes.

A translation into German of Mr. Keightley's learned and ingenious work on the Mythology of Greece and Italy, is announced for publication at Weimar.

A Society of sixteen members, for the cultivation of Celtic Literature, was instituted, in 1824, in the Duchies of Liefland and Courland. Its object was the theoretical and practical investigation of the Celtic language, in all its branches, grammatical as well as lexicographical. A magazine, for the embodying of its proceedings, was commenced at Mittau in 1829; and at the end of 1830, six numbers had appeared, the contents of which are highly interesting. At the same period the Society consisted of One Hundred and Thirteen ordinary and Five honorary Members.

FOREIGN THEATRICAL INTELLIGENCE.

A FAVOURITE actress at the Milan Theatre had lately a singular adventure. She had been for some time attached to a young Italian gentleman. They quarrelled and parted. The lover became desperate: he declared he would watch an opportunity and shoot her from one of the upper boxes of the Theatre, and afterwards shoot himself. But a short time elapsed, when one evening, as the lady was warbling a favourite air, she looked towards the upper boxes, and saw her lover pale as death with his eyes fixed upon her. She trembled violently. The lover put his hand to his bosom; instantly collecting her strength, she ran off the stage, crying. "Seize the murderer! seize the assassan !" The amazement of the audience was indescribable. The lover escaped.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

IN yesterday's number two errata unfortunately crept in too late to be discovered. We beg leave to repeat the notices as they ought to have appeared :

MR. SOTHBEY is preparing for the Press his translation of the Odyssey, also a new and corrected edition of the Iliad.

We understand that the Bibliographical Account of Gaelic Books, which Mr. John Reid has been engaged with for some years, is shortly to appear under the direct patronage of the Highland Society of London, and dedicated with permission to his Majesty. What the merit of the work is we cannot say—but it will be at least an Original Work, as nothing of the same kind has ever before been attempted.

A NARRATIVE of a nine months' residence in New Zealand in 1827, with a Journal of a Residence in Tristan D'Acunha, by AUGUSTUS EARL, Draughtsman to the Beagle Discovery Ship is announced.

J. COPELAND, M. D. has in the press, a Dictionary of Practical Medicine.

MR. THURGAR is about to publish a Treatise on the Genders of French Nouns, with copious illustrations from the best French Writers.

MISCELLANEA.

ANECDOTE OF CICERO. It is related by the Italians that, a contemporary of Tully having given a splendid entertainment to the principal nobility of Rome, at the conclusion of their repast proposed to his guests that they should drink, as a toast, "The memory of their nobility, as derived to them from their ancestors." (Alla salute della nobilita de loro ante nati.) This pointed rebuke to the FIRST MAGISTRATE of the COMMONWEALTH!-the SAVIOUR of ROME!!-their PATER PATRIA!!! forsooth, who, it now evidently appeared, had been invited for the express object of being taunted with his plebeian origin, and honoured with this transcendant specimen of high-bred patrician courtesy, did not pass unheeded; but, when it came to the turn of Cicero to drink, addressing himself, in the first instance, to the assembly, "I drink to my own health, for with me my NOBILITY commences; but I dare not drink to yours," said the PRINCE of ROMAN ORATORS, eyeing, at same time, with dignified scorn, his insolent entertainer, "for I perceive but too plainly, that, in you your NOBILITY ENDS!" (lo bevo alla mia salute, la mia nobilità comminciando da me; ma non andisco di bere alla vostra, perche questa finisce invoi.)

meet.

Do LADIES OF FASHION DRINK GIN.-Extremes are said to We are told by one of those ingenious publications, called "Magazines of Fashion,"-what think ye?—that it is now the custom at dinner parties, to place a glass vase of rose-water before each guest, in which a drop of the essence of mint has been infused. The extreme coolness which forms one of the properties of that herb, leaves a pleasant freshness in the mouth during the rest of the evening!—Peppermint !-Gin and Peppermint. gratulate the distillers and retailers of the two essences. "ladies in Aureolis of Scolloped Bloude" can cool their mouths with a drop of the essence of mint, as well as the more natural belles of Billingsgate, with the essence of juniper alias gin.

66

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A SMART REPROOF.-A divine in Kent, seldom in church, but a rigid Justice of the Peace, having a vagrant" brought before him, said, surlily I shall teach you law, I warrant you." It would be much more becoming," retorted the fellow, "if you would teach me the gospel."

ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND.-At Lausanne we have charming walks, shaded terraces, gardens, vineyards, villas, a magnificent lake, and lofty mountains in the distance. What more can be desired? The town is built on a steep declivity, its church occupying the highest position, and the whole forms an interesting subject for the canvass. Every symptom of Italy has now disappeared. The Swiss cottage, and Protestant church are, without likeness, south of the Alps; while cleanliness, comfort, and simplicity remind us of England. The blue stuff gown also, with the white apron and cap of Mariette, the chamber-maid, brought our own honest rosy-cheeked Peggy into remembrance. Sated with the rich luxury of Italian beauty, we look with pleasure, on the mild loveliness of the Swiss female, and are here again reminded of England. In short, the resemblance is close-the children are childish, the men seem respectable, and the women modest. The rustic architecture of the Swiss is distinguished by two qualities, not often united in the cottage scenes of our own, or perhaps any other country, viz. the neat and the picturesque. The abodes of the Swiss peasantry, are as fair as cleanly formality, and, at the same time expressive as confusion and decay.-Library of Fine Arts.

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THE DAY.

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1832.

THE MORAL POETS OF GREAT BRITAIN.—No. I.

YOUNG.

It is well for Britain, that so many of her bards can assume, the distinction of having contributed, by the virtuous exercise of their talents, to the purity and morality of their native land. The noble powers, conferred by heaven, upon many of our poets, have seldom been prostituted to low and unworthy purposes, to the pampering of vicious, or to the exciting of unhallowed, passions. In the poetry of our country, a moral influence has prevailed, scarcely perceptible, indeed, in its operations, yet spreading, although silently, throughout an extensive circle of society, like the undulations of the smooth and transient lake, when the projected peeble has fallen upon its bosom.

It is unfortunate indeed, that there should be any exceptions, and not unfrequently, when it was too late, have these exceptions been wept over, and lamented by the authors themselves; but if, for some of our earlier poets, difference of taste, and change of manners be accepted, as an apology for their abberations; and if we erase altogether, a very few volumes indeed, the Muse of England has no cause to blush for the misapplied genius of her sons, or to lament, that in their works, virtue has been immolated upon the altar of unholy passion. Yes! our beloved country, with all her faults, and all her failings, has, in every period of her history, possessed men, who illustrated and adorned their age, and who, feeling that the morality of a nation, is its best safeguard, have readily dedicated their noble talents to its cause.

It is our intention to notice the works of some of our moral poets, in the following manner. We shall present to our readers, a short sketch of their lives. We shall then point out the peculiarities of their genius and style, and we shall conclude, by offering certain extracts from their works. Should we succeed thus, in inducing our readers, more frequently to peruse the works of the authors we have alluded to, we shall be useful to them, and, at the same time, we shall be promoting the object of our little publication, which is particularly intended to improve, as well as to entertain.

Dr. EDWARD YOUNG was the son of a clergyman, and was born in the year 1679. He studied civil law at Oxford, and at one time, intended to follow it as a profession, but several works that he published gained for him the attention of some eminent literary characters of the period, and more particularly the patronage of Addison, at the request of whom, it is probable he wrote several papers for the Spectator. length abandoned the study of law, and took orders in the English church, in which he obtained a living, worth five hundred a-year.

He at

When more advanced in life, he married the lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of the Earl of Litchfield. It is said, that one day, during his courtship, as he sat in a bower in the garden, with his lady-love and her female companion, he was sent for, to attend some indispensible parish duties. The messenger was requested to return in an hour, but this he refused to do, asserting that our poet's presence was instantly required. On hearing this, the ladies also insisted on his immediate attention to the demand, and playfully pushed him

towards the gate. He there stood for a few moments, and immediately pronounced the following elegant and appropriate lines:

"Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driven,

And thus disputed orders sent from Heaven.
Like him, I go; like him, to go I'm loth;
Like him, I go, for angels drove us both.
His fate was hard, but mine still more unkind-

His Eve went with him, mine remains behind." Of all the works of this author, his volume entitled "Night Thoughts" is pre-eminent. It was partly written, under the influence of severe grief, for the loss of his daughter, his wife, and his son-in-law; and this no doubt tinged it, with the melancholy, which is apparent in many of its pages. Yet, although the natural tendency of our poet's feelings, led him to deep and solemn thought, he highly relished innocent recreations. He was a superior performer on the flute, and not only countenanced, but instituted a variety of innocent amusements, for the inhabitants of the parish, of which he was rector. Old age at length approached, and, with it, its frequent attendants-debility and weakness. Beloved of many friends, the good old man, sunk into his grave in peace, at the advanced age of eighty-six.

In Young's Night Thoughts, there is much to impress the mind; but the work is altogether deficient in narrative, and rambles from topic to topie, without order or regularity. It consists of the author's thoughts placed together, too often without connection. Hence, although his principal poem be read a hundred times, it makes little impression, as a whole; but, there are few authors whose individual passages have, by a numerous class of readers, been more frequently quot. ed. Every copy of Young's Night Thoughts is mark ed by its reader, with notes, for the purpose of re-per using, or, at a future period, of cornmitting to memory yet, very few persons, indeed, have thoroughly read his writings. His popularity rests, therefore, rather upon the force and beauty of certain passages, than upon a thorough examination of his volumes: but, he is a favourite with many, and he is certainly entitled to all the fame, which the world has hitherto awarded.

The versification of Young is not remarkable, either for its smoothness or its irregularity, although his elisions are frequent. Abruptness is evident in every page, and, although sometimes impressive, it often produces obscurity. It is not until his whole soul is awakened, that he bursts into noble and impassioned poetry; and, boldly striking the chords, produces notes, to the force and expression of which, no reader can be insensible. He is a bold, but irregular thinker; yet, his originality always supports him, and his ideas are generally expressed in a manner solemn, affecting and impressive. There is a spirit of fervent piety, too, that hallows all his productions, and his works cannot be read without serious thought, and, probably, important improvement. We are, therefore, disposed to assign him a high rank amongst the Moral Poets of our country. We offer the following illustrations of his defects and beauties:

"When, on their exit, fools are bid unrobe,

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more happily illustrated from other passages; but, along with the peculiarities of the poetry, there is so much feeling included in the following lines, that we shall quote them :—

"O, the soft commerce; O, the tender ties,

Close twisted with the fibres of the heart;
Which broken, break them, and drain off the soul
Of human joy, and make it pain to live.

And is it, then, to live? When such friends part
'Tis the survivor dies !-My heart! no more.

We have said of Young, that, when kindled by his subject, he rises into the very eloquence of poetry. Take, for example, the following lines:

"And was the ransom paid? It was! and paid,
What can exalt the bounty more, for you!
The sun beheld it? No! the shocking scene
Drove back his chariot; midnight veil'd his face,
A midnight Nature shuddered to behold;
A midnight new! a dread eclipse, without
Opposing spheres, from a Creator's frown!
Sun! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain? or start
At that enormous load of human guilt
Which bow'd his blessed head, o'erwhelm'd his Cross,
Made groan thy centre, burst earth's marble womb
With pangs, strange pangs, delivered of her dead!
Hell howl'd, and heaven, that hour, let fall a tear."

HOURS OF LEISURE.-No. I.

Nil non mortale tenemus.

Or the many important duties which clergymen have to perform, few perhaps are possessed of greater interest than the visits they are, from time to time, called to pay to the bedsides of the sick and the dying. In all his public ministrations, and in his private intercourse with his flock, the faithful and devoted pastor is accustomed to keep in view, the fleeting character of our present mode of existence. His instructions, reproofs and warnings proceed on the supposition, that he who tenders them, and they to whom they are addressed, must soon descend together into the silent tomb. This awfully solemn and interesting consideration is brought home, with more than ordinary force to the mind of a christian minister, when he enters the sick-chamber of an individual, whose precious soul has been committed to his trust, and who is entering the dark valley and shadow of death. No marvel, that on such an occasion, he should have realizing views of the objects of faith-that a deep sense of the responsibility of his situation, as a preacher of righteousness, should rest upon his mind, and that an inward irresistible impulse should constrain him to look upon every thing around him, in the light of the eternal world. When he turns his eyes to the person, whose dying pillow he has been called to smooth, with the sweet consoling truths of our holy religion, an object presents itself to his notice, pre-eminently calculated to awaken every tender emotion, and to bring into exercise every gracious principle: For, who that lays claim to the passions and sympathies of humanity, and especially, what heart refined by grace can contemplate a fellow-creature, who has reached earth's utmost boundary, and is standing on the verge of the eternal world, taking as it were a last look, of the scene that lies behind him, and with which he has been long familiar, before he steps across the line of demarcation, to penetrate the mists, that linger on the confines of the abode of spirits?-who I say can contemplate this without having his heart softened, his mind solemnized, and his affections drawn out in love and gratitude, to Him who has deprived death of its sting, and has perfumed for us the clods of the valley. I have not supposed, that in the production of this state of mind, the character and history of the dying person were in any way concerned, but that altogether irrespective of those, and of the probable condition of the individual in a future world, the simple contemplation of death, as a change in the mode of our existence, naturally induces a serious and devotional frame of mind. We

know how the philosophers of ancient times, who enjoyed not the light of revelation, approached the consideration of this interesting subject. The christian, however, confines not himself to the reasonings and speculations of a cold and barren philosophy. He knows that the dark ages have passed away, and that a wonderful change has been effected in the opinions and habits of men. Vice, which under another name had exercised almost unlimited sway, has been stripped of the mask it wore, and exposed to view in all its native deformity, whilst virtue, which had for a season withdrawn to some more genial clime, has again returned with her smiling face to bless our world. Revelation has unfolded many a mystery, given solidity and consistency to systems that were problematical and contradictory-taught many truths before unknown— consigned to merited oblivion, many specious theories, and placed in the light of the noonday sun, much that was before enveloped in midnight darkness. By it the veil which separates this from the future world, has been partially drawn aside, and the true principles on which the final judgment shall proceed have been clearly revealed. The rashly curious, who delight to indulge in vain and unprofitable speculations, respecting futurity, and the daring enthusiast who impiously pretends to know the secrets of the eternal mind, have their folly and criminality painted in glowing colours in the sacred volume. A cautious and intelligent application however of the touchstone of revealed truth, to the character and conduct of our fellow men, so far from being forbidden by the divine author of the scriptures, is frequently inculcated as a sacred duty. And as no occasion can be more appropriate, so probably on none do we feel more inclined to enquire, what degree of light, the past history and present character of an individual throw on his prospects for eternity, than when we find ourselves standing by the side of his dying-bed,

"That dreadful post of observation,

Darker every hour."

In such a situation, what delight does it afford to a christian, and, especially, to a minister of the everlasting gospel, to recognise in the dying man, the image of the Lord of glory! He feels, that, in place of having been called to the performance of a duty, frequently attended with painful considerations, he has been invited to a rich spiritual banquet. What sacred pleasures thrill through his inmost soul, as he listens to the recital, given by the dying saint, of his feelings, in the near prospect of dissolution. With what inward satisfaction does he mark the triumph of faith in its last conflict, rising, as it does, above the fear of death, and banishing the dark suggestions of hell. Never do the graces of the spirit appear more amiable, nor more worthy of their heavenly origin, than in the last moments of a Christian's earthly career. How pleasing is it to see these graces increasing in lively and vigorous exercise, as the period approaches when faith shall be changed to sight, and hope shall rise to full fruition! And how much is this pleasure enhanced, when the faithful pastor can reflect that he has been the honoured instrument of turning from the error of his ways the individual whose conflict, with the dark swelling waves of Jordan, he has been called to witness! What a fearful contrast to this picture, is presented in the death-bed scenes of the infidel, the profligate, or the worldling? What a fearful gloom hangs over the last moments of their earthly existence? What remorse of conscience attends their retrospect of the various pursuits that filled up the days and years of their unhappy lives? Every external advantage, every mean of grace and opportunity of improvement with which they had been favoured, every providential warning, every faithful reproof and solemn admonition which, in early life or in later years they had received, crowd on their recollection, and pierce their hearts with bitterest anguish. Talk to them of the bible, of Christ, or of salvation through

his merits, and it is probable that, collecting their expiring energies, they will enjoin you to be silent. If they have courage to practise retrospection, conscience tells of a will unsubdued, and a heart unsanctified. When they lie awake, they writhe in more thán mortal agony at the dreadful prospect before them; and when they gratify the calls of exhausted nature for repose, horrific visions disturb their slumbers. When death approaches, they instinctively recoil from the fell destroyer, and, with a frightful shudder, sink unblessed and unforgiven into the abyss ofeternity. Let all who value their present peace and future safety, devote their fleeting lives to the service of Him who has the keys of death and hell," that, when they have run their appointed course, they may calmly sink behind the horizon of life, to shine with brighter effulgence in the firmament above, through the ceaseless ages of eternity.

THE POWER OF RELIGION.

Religion's all.

Here is prime footing: here is solid rock : This can support us: all else is sea besides; Sinks under us; bestorms, and then devours.

YOUNG.

A NARRATIVE of the sufferings and calamities which befal the human race may, for a short period, affect the heart of even the most hardened, and draw tears from the eyes which were never before, accustomed to weep. But these feelings are like the passing shower, or transitory rainbow, which, though vivid and bright for a moment, speedily withdraws, and leaves no trace of its former existence. It is Religion, only, which can soften the heart at first, and keep it in that condition through life, and it is Religion, only, which can extend to the nation, the family and the individual, the liberty, the union and the happiness which are constantly enquired for and sought after, but so rarely found and experienced. It was Religion which gave Israel of old such unspeakable advantages over the surrounding nations, and it was only when it had departed from the precepts of its Maker, that it experienced its downfal and dispersion. It was Religion which gave Abraham the superiority in wealth and respect which he received from those among whom he sojourned, and in whose territories he pitched his tents and fed his flocks, although he possessed not a foot of that land. It was Religion which gave Joseph so great success when sold by his spiteful brethren to a band of foreigners, and, in the exercise of which, he gained favour in the eyes of the Egyptian king. It teaches a sovereign, like David, to rule with discretion, and use his power as a trust from heaven -a minister of state, like Daniel, to perform his arduous duties with faithfulness-a pastor, like Ezekiel, to proclaim his commands and to re-echo his commission again and again, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear-a magistrate and judge, like Solomon, to administer justice with inflexible impartiality. It pourtrays all the kindly feelings of the heart. The filial affection of Isaac, the fervent attachment of Ruth, the conjugal love of Jacob and Rachel, the unfeigned friendship of David and Jonathan, the sisterly union of Martha and Mary, the fidelity of Onesimus, all display the beautiful and engaging manner in which Religion, by its soft and silken bands, causes all, of every class, age and situation, to unite to each other, and fulfil the various duties which Providence has allotted them in such a manner as no heathen, or mere moralist, could possibly exhibit. By Religion the malevolent passions which, in so many cases, exercise a despotic rule over the minds of men, are softened, if not totally removed. The hard heart of the parent is melted into love, and tears of reproach fall on the neck of him who was formerly despised. The brother's feelings of animosity and revenge give way to affectionate embraces. The designs of self-interest, and aggrandisement in friends, are entirely done away with. Domestic ties are more closely united; envy, emulation and strife, are banished from the family circle; disinterestedness and peace shine forth in all their beauty. If such are the benign effects which Religion produces in the family, how happy would be the results from its extension and advancement throughout the land. Then would the murderer's hand never dare to be lifted up to embrue itself in a fellow-creature's blood. Never more would

the midnight robber plunder the property of his neighbour. Factious feuds and party spirit would be alike unknown, and the golden rule would be engraven on every breast in characters which no power could erase.

If it were only for a time that these happy effects continued, there might be a shadow of excuse for such an universal neglect. But they continue, not for a few fleeting days or months, or years, but through the whole term of life, whether short or extended. In infancy it is delightful to behold them, they ripen in manhood, and a hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the path of righteousness. It will never desert that individual of whose heart it has taken possession; but in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth, in life and in death, it will constantly attend. In the buoyancy of spirits it will attemperate the desires; in their depression exhilirate; in necessity, it will preserve them from sinking; in prosperity equalize; through life it will cheer; in death it will comfort and console.

It is only the Christian Religion which can produce these results. In vain shall man search from the equator, to either pole, for another which shall confer such universal benefits as this. It is heavenly in its origin, heavenly in its aim, and heavenly in its aid. No codes, ever promulgated, can exhibit such incomparable laws, or by the examples of their founders inculcate such pure and hallowed precepts as those of the Bible. The Mahomedan may spend his life in a dull monastery of luxury and ease, may look forward to death with stoical fortitude, and anticipate a paradise, where his sensual gratifications may be fully indulged. But he that is influenced by the Religion of the Bible, will resemble the waters of Jordan, which, though they pass through the sea of Galilee, mingle not with its waves, but having flowed through alone, wear out for themselves a channel, and, having benefitted the neighbouring banks by their overflowings, run, at last, into the sea of death and corruption. There he remains, until, roused by the vivifying sound of the archangel's trump, his portion is assigned in the mansions of bliss.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

TO-MORROW.

How sweet to the heart is the thought of To-morow,
Then hope's fairy pictures bright colours display;
How sweet, when we can from futurity borrow
A balm for the griefs that afflict us to-day.

When wearisome sickness has taught me to languish

For health, and the comforts it bears on its wing; Let me hope (oh! how soon it would lessen my anguish) That To-morrow will ease and serenity bring.

When travelling alone, quite forlorn, unbefriended,
Sweet the hope that, To-morrow my wanderings will cease,
That, at home, then, with care sympathetic attended,
I shall rest unmolested, and slumber in peace.

Or when, from the friends of my heart long divided,
The fond expectation, with joy how replete,
That, from far-distant regions, by Providence guided,
To-morrow will see us most happily meet.

When six days of labour, each other succeeding,
With hurry and toil, have my spirits oppressed,
What pleasure to think, as the last is receding,
To-morrow will be a sweet Sabbath of rest.

And, when the vain shadows of time are retiring, When life is fast fleeting, and death is in sight, The Christian, believing, exulting, aspiring, Beholds a To-morrow of endless delight.

But the Infidel, then-he sees no To-morrow

Yet, he knows that his moments are bastening away. Poor wretch can he feel, without heart-rending sorrow, That his joys and his life will expire with To-day.

2.

CHURCH ANNOYANCES.

To the Editor of THE DAY.

SIR, The Church Annoyances, complained of by your correspond. ent on Saturday, are, certainly, very grievous, and could not occur, if people would just pay a little deference to the feelings and comfort of their neighbours, even if they had no respect for the house of prayer. But there are other Church Annoyances, still more intolerable, than those your correspondent complains of, and which admit of none of the excuses, that "coughers," "nose blowers," and "bad singers," may, perhaps, urge. I know nothing, for instance, more annoying, than the indecent noise and shuffling that takes place, when Ministers are drawing to the conclusion of their prayers. People seem, from their hurry to resume their seats, to be weary of the prayers, and to be glad when they are about being concluded; but, if they were devoutly joining in these prayers, they would not alter their praying postures one hair'sbreadth, till they reverently bowed a response to the Minister's

amen;" and if there are any, whose hearts are not engaged, surely good manners might keep them from disturbing those whose hearts are engaged-disturbing them, too, at the most solemn part of the service; either when all praise and glory are being ascribed to the Creator of heaven and earth, or when a supplication is being offered, that the prayers may be heard and answered, for the sake of Him, by whose name, each one present, professes to be called.

Similar to this, is the noisy preparation numbers make for leaving church, during the pronouncing of the blessing-a part of the service which, though short, ought to be devoutly engaged in by every pious mind. Yet, unless the Minister speaks in a tolerably high key, the blessing is seldom heard beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the pulpit. What with smoothing of hats and adjusting of cloaks, muffs and tippets, pulling on of gloves, buttoning of coats, handling of umbrellas and opening of pew doors

there are a noise and confusion, which, not to speak of the utter inattention and indifference to the services indicated by such conduct, are quite disgraceful in an assembly of Christian worshippers.

The offences complained of are committed by people who profess to consider themselves, at the time, as in the immediate presence of Almighty God; and yet, in his awful presence, they conduct themselves with an irreverence and indecency which they would most scrupulously strive to avoid in the presence of any mere earthly superior. "These things ought not so to be."-I am, Sir, your most obedient,

Glasgow, 3d February, 1832.

O. P. Q.

RELIGIOUS NOVELTIES.

"TEN Sermons upon the Nature and Effects of Faith," by the Rev. JAMES THOMAS O'BRIEN, Fellow, T. C.D.

"Illustrations of the Christian Faith and Christian Virtues,” drawn from the Bible, by M. S. HAYNES, Author of Scenes and Thoughts, &c.

MISCELLANEA.

THE reason that a lofty spire, or obelisk, stands more securely on the earth, than even a short pillar stands on the bottom of a moving waggon, is, not that the earth is more at rest than the waggon, but that its motion is uniform. Were the present rotation

of our globe to be arrested but for a moment, imperial London, with its thousand spires and turrets, would, by the motal inertia, be swept from its valley, towards the eastern ocean, just as loose snow is swept away by a gust of wind.—Arnott's Physics.

In this world we are children, standing on the bank of a mighty river, casting our eyes upwards and downwards—along the channel we discern various windings of its current, and perceive that it is now visible, now obscure, and now entirely hidden from our view. But, being far removed from the fountain whence it springs, and from the ocean into which it is emptied, we are unable to form any conceptions of the beauty, usefulness, or grandeur of its progress. In this situation a messenger from heaven comes to our relief with authentic information of its nature, its course, and its end. This River is the earthly system of Providence, the bible is the celestial messenger, and heaven is the ocean in which all preceding dispentations find their end.-Dr. Dwight. PROCRASTINATION.-He who prorogues the honesty of to-day till to-morrow, will probably prorogue his to-morrow to eternity. -Lavater.

PRIDE AND AFFECTATION.-Pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more terrible enemy to fine faces, than the small-pox.-Hughes.

THE CHAMELEON,-Who is said to feed upon nothing but air, has, of all animals, the nimblest tongue.-Swift.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"M.'s" communication, although tolerably well written, will not suit us. The MS. is left with our publisher. We beg leave however, to tell our numerous correspondents, that henceforward it will be out of our power to return articles.

"J. D. G.'s" Epigram is rather too personal for our columns. "S." will perhaps have a place in our Poet's corner, when more urgent demands are answered.

"W. M." is under consideration.

"CONFESSIONS OF A BURKER-No. IV." early next week. A Criticism on the "Usurer's Daughter" has been some time in type, and will appear on Monday.

In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every morning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's.

HIGH WATER AT THE BROOMIELAW. MORNING. EVENING. h. m. h: m. 9 7 9 46

FINE ARTS.

Saturday, Monday,

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BRITISH INSTITUTION.

"The

THE Exhibition of the works of British Artists opened last Monday. As a whole, the Exhibition is a pleasing one-full of variety, and in that peculiar department of the art, which has of late years distinguished our school of painting. There are some works possessing a claim to the higher character of genius: among others, HILTON's fine picture of "Sir Calepine rescuing Serena ;" ETTY'S "Shipwricked Sailor;" some beautiful specimens by E. LANDSEER " A Lassie herding Sheep," a most exquisite picture; a splendid Interior, by FRASER, marvellously executed; Dream of Queen Catherine," by HowARD; a sweet "Head of a Child," by Mrs. CARPENTER; "Hunt the Slipper," by CHALON; "Fruit," by G. LANCE; two pictures by poor LIVERSeege, (whose death we so lately lamented,)" Don Quixote" and the "Recruit," full of true and unaffected feeeling; two pictures by G. HAYTER; "Covent Garden Market," by J. F. LEWIS; "A Bit of Courtship," by KNIGHT; a clever picture hy HART; some pleasing landscapes by LEE, BURNET, A. CLINT, STANLEY, CONNOR; a sea-piece by STANFIELD, and many others by WEBSTER, FARRIER, R. T. BONE, HOFLAND, ROGERS, INSKIPP, UWINS, &c. -Athenæum.

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